The Strikers charge forward in formation, passing the sphere with practiced precision. They’re coordinated and focused, just as hungry for this win. Morgan leads the charge, her magic crackling around her—fire sparking at her fingertips as she prepares to enhance her throw.
But our defense holds. Callum conjures a powerful gust of wind that knocks the sphere off course when one of the Strikers tries to score. It goes wide, missing the goalposts by inches, and bounces out of bounds.
Referee’s whistle. Our sphere.
Half of the crowd cheers, and the other half boos.
I jog over to retrieve it, my lungs burning, my muscles screaming. We’ve been playing for nearly an hour, and every player on the field is exhausted and gleaming with sweat inthe winter sun. But I can’t think about that right now. Can’t think about anything except winning this game.
Well. Almost anything.
My eyes flick toward the stands, just for a second, and I spot her. Poppy is sitting with Alina, Raelan, Maeve, and Lyra. Even from here, I can see the way she’s leaning forward, completely absorbed in the game.
She came. She’s watching. She’s—
“Vandermere!” Coach Grayward’s voice snaps me back to attention. “Focus!”
Right. Focus. I can stare at my girlfriend later. Right now, I have a game to win.
I take possession of the sphere and survey the field. The Strikers are regrouping, setting up their defense. Morgan is in the center, her eyes locked on me, and I can see the challenge in her expression. She wants this win.
But so do I.
“Key lime pie!” I call out.
All our plays have silly names, but it helps us remember each one.
My team responds immediately, breaking into the play we’ve practiced a hundred times. Leo goes left, Mona goes right, and I charge straight up the middle with the sphere.
Two Striker defenders converge on me, trying to box me in. I throw the sphere high over their heads, and it crosses through the fire rune, becoming engulfed in flame. But Mona is there to catch it, exactly where she’s supposed to be. She hits the sphere with her water magic, making it sizzle and steam in the cold air as the fire goes out.
“Go, go, go!” I shout, sprinting forwardto support her.
Mona dodges one defender, then another, her small frame making her agile and hard to pin down. She’s almost at the goalposts when that same defender who blocked her before appears again, his massive body creating a barrier between Mona and the goal.
But she’s too smart to let that happen again. She passes the sphere back to me, and I’m already in motion, jumping to catch it midair.
Morgan is there in an instant, her hand crackling with flame. “Not this time, Vandermere.”
She releases the spell, and I have just enough time to conjure a shield of ice, deflecting the flames. The collision of magic sends sparks flying, and the crowd gasps, many leaping to their feet.
We’re locked in a standoff, magic against magic, her fire pressing against my ice. She’s incredibly strong, and for a moment, I think she might overpower me.
But then Leo appears at my side, adding his own magic to my shield, helping to reinforce the glittering ice. Morgan’s fire falters, and she stumbles back.
“Now!” Leo shouts.
I don’t hesitate. I break away from Morgan, the sphere still clutched in my hands, and charge toward the goalposts. Defenders close in from all sides, but my team is there to block them, buying me precious seconds.
The giant clock poised over the field is ticking down. Thirty seconds. Twenty.
I’m ten feet from the goalposts when that massive defender appears in front of me one last time, his air magic already swirling around his hands.
But I’ve learned his pattern. I know he expects me to throw high or wide, trying to curve the sphere around his defense.
So instead, I channel everything I have—every ounce of magic, every bit of strength—into the sphere. Since finals ended, my magic hasn’t failed me. Guess it was the stress after all.
Fire erupts around the sphere, turning it into a blazing comet, and I throw it straight at the defender’s swirling magic.
